


and the season's storm is gonna be unknown

by Yevynaea



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, College, Cute, Diners, Drabble Sequence, How Do I Tag This, Misunderstandings, Multi, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Some Humor, Swearing, because ronan, inhuman raven gang, liminal spaces, minimal plot, random ocs who probably don't make enough money, unknowable raven gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: Adam Parrish is in a cult. Or a witch coven. Or a group of aliens or faeries who haven't figured out how to blend in with humans yet. No one working the Thursday morning shift at the campus coffee shop is completely sure of the details, but they know that something is going on, and the list has been mostly narrowed down to those few options.or, 5 times outsiders looked in on the gang post-canon.





	1. Chapter 1

Adam Parrish is in a cult. Or a witch coven. Or a group of aliens or faeries who haven't figured out how to blend in with humans yet. No one working the Thursday morning shift at the campus coffee shop is completely sure of the details, but they know that  _ something  _ is going on, and the list has been mostly narrowed down to those few options. West is betting on faeries, Juanita’s betting on aliens, Marie is betting on coven, and Carter’s betting on cult. No one’s quite rude or quite brave enough to do any real spying to figure out who’s right, but it’s plain enough to see that Parrish and his friends aren't quite normal.

First, there’s Adam himself. He’s polite, and doesn’t try to chat with anyone when they’re taking his order, but he seems  _ older _ than most of their peers, like he’s aged more than his body shows. He tilts his head oddly when he’s listening closely to something-- eventually Carter learns that Adam is deaf in one ear, and that at least starts making sense. He’s some kind of witch-person, with the crystals and the tarot cards and the way he always seems to know exactly what the weather will be like the next day. The alien theory comes from his technology; the sleek laptop and cell phone that never seem to need charging, and don’t even look like they could be plugged in.

 

Then there’s Ronan, who isn’t a student but comes in with Adam every so often, and Marie can’t really wrap her head around it when she realizes the two of them are dating. Adam is soft voices and studious hard work and callused hands deftly shuffling his witch’s cards. Ronan is a sharp grin and tattoos and loud emotions, generally accompanied by loud cursing that on three separate occasions almost leads to the baristas playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to ask him to leave. There’s also the raven, who isn’t allowed into the shop and so instead swoops off of Ronan’s shoulder and sits patiently on the bike rack outside until the boys leave.

Once, Ronan brings Opal, his (and therefore Adam’s) daughter, who makes more bird noises than she speaks actual words, who’s got wild hair and continuously scrapes her boots against each other like they’re uncomfortable and she wants them off. Ronan orders her a scone, and she nibbles at it corners-first, then breaks it in half, one piece getting stuffed messily into her skirt pocket for later. Carter watches, a little concerned about the kid, but Ronan just makes an annoyed sound and tells her to “at least wrap it in a napkin,  _ Jesus _ , were you raised in a barn?” (To which Opal stares, and then solemnly replies “yes”. Adam laughs. Ronan looks disgusted with the both of them, but there’s a smile pulling at the edge of his mouth.)

 

The other three all visit Adam together. There’s Blue, whose clothes all seem to be DIY projects, who comes in with dirt covering her lower legs while her shoes are clean, who sticks her tongue out at Adam when he pulls a leaf from her hair and gives her a look. There’s Gansey, the politician’s son, who dresses like the most obnoxious of rich white boys, but looks at his friends like he would carry the sky on his shoulders for them, and possibly already has. And there’s Henry, who seems possibly the most ordinary, except that West is  _ sure _ he saw a honeybee in Henry’s hair, crawling over his head… but Henry didn’t seem to notice or care.

_ Definitely  _ fae, West decides, after the first time he meets them. He puts five more dollars on the board they have running in the back room.

 

Juanita looks at the tray of drinks in her hand. Then she looks at the table in the corner, its inhabitants speaking to each other just quiet enough to be drowned out by the general noise of the shop around them. Ronan looks as shark-like as ever, sitting with his back to the wall, one hand holding Adam’s under the table. Blue’s positioned her chair sideways at the corner of the table, so that she can put her feet up in Gansey’s lap while leaning back enough for Henry to mess with her hair.

Juanita takes a deep breath, and goes over to the group. As she gets closer, she hears part of a sentence: “...thought I’d never get the red out of my shirt, it was  _ covered _ \--” before Henry notices her approaching and kicks Ronan under the table. Ronan glares viciously at Henry, then turns his gaze on Juanita, the look he gives her not as intense as the one he gave his friend, but just as dangerous. Adam twists around so that his hearing ear is closer to her. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Here are your drinks,” Juanita smiles, but doesn’t use her cheerful retail voice; she knows they’d see through it.

“Thanks,” Adam says. The table is silent as Juanita moves each mug from the tray to the table, and she’s aware of all their eyes on her as she walks away.

She bypasses where Marie is taking orders at the register, going straight to the back room, where West and Carter are unpacking boxes of plastic lids.

“Guys, new theory,” she says, and they both look up. “Romanticized nineteen-twenties style gang.”

“...What,” West says.

“You know, guns and chases and crime, without, like, the real nitty-gritty stuff.”

“No, I know the genre, just… _ what _ ,” West repeats with more feeling.

“We’re not in the twenties,” Carter points out. West points at him in agreement.

“ _Listen,_ ” Juanita insists. “Gansey’s the leader, obviously.”  
“Obviously,” West says, only half sarcastically.

“Ronan and Adam are his seconds in command,” Juanita continues. “Ronan’s the muscle guy, what are they called?”

“I have no idea,” Carter replies. Juanita waves her hand dismissively.

“Doesn’t matter. Ronan’s the muscle, and Adam’s the brains. Like, the strategist.”

“And the other two?” West asks.

“Blue’s muscle too, but she’s less obvious about it.”

“Like their secret weapon,” Carter adds.

“ _ Exactly. _ ” Juanita nods.

“Nice,” says Carter. There’s a moment or two of silence between them all.

“And Henry’s the femme fatale,” concludes Juanita.

“Oh _ , _ my god,” says West.

 

Juanita is deeply offended by West’s skepticism of her new theory -- “you think they’re literal  _ fairies,  _ West, how is this weirder,” -- and, assisted by Carter, she half dares, half peer pressures him into spying on Adam’s table so he can see for himself.

The first time West goes by the table, it’s just to bring a slice of banana bread to another customer, so he only hears a little of the conversation going on.

“--he’s a  _ retired  _ hitman, Henry, you know this--”

“He  _ kidnapped  _ me, that’s not very retired--”

West hurries back to the counter. Carter’s taken over the register for Marie, probably so the latter can be filled in by Juanita about the latest betting option.

The second time West goes by, it’s to clean up a larger table next to them, and this time he can hear a little more.

“--had to bury it before anyone could see it,” Ronan is saying.

“How did nobody notice you; weren’t you visiting Matthew? The Barns are secluded enough to be burying dead things, but--” Gansey stops talking when Blue nudges him with her foot, then turns in his chair to follow where she’s looking to West, who realizes abruptly that he’s stopped cleaning the table and is staring openly.

“How long’ve you been listening?” Adam asks him. West shakes his head, suddenly feeling like a deer facing down a pack of wolves.

“Long enough,” Blue answers for him, slowly bringing her legs down from on top of Gansey’s and sitting up properly in her chair.

Ronan leans to whisper in Adam’s good ear, not breaking eye contact with West for a  _ second _ , and Adam nods in agreement with whatever his boyfriend says to him. Ronan grins, sharp and violent. He begins to stand up from the table, and West turns on a dime, speed-walking back to the storage room as quickly as he dares.

 

“ _Jesus_ _Christ_ , do you have to make every bad situation worse?” Gansey asks, when the scared barista has disappeared into the back of the shop. Ronan is grinning self-satisfactorily. Blue and Henry are trying in vain to stifle their snickering. Adam hasn’t started laughing yet, but he’s clearly trying very, very hard at this.

“You’re the one talking about dead things in a public coffee shop,” Adam points out to Gansey.

“I did not start this,” Gansey shoots back, pointing a stern finger at his friend. Blue starts laughing even harder. “Ronan and his nightmares started this, I did not start this.”

 

“I think you’re right,” West says to Juanita, who gives him a smug look. “They were talking about  _ burying  _ a  _ body _ .”

“Holy shit,” Juanita says.

“Wait, for real?” Marie asks. West flails his arms in an exaggerated sort of shrug.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he answers.

“ _ Holy shit, _ ” Juanita repeats. She sounds way too excited for West’s comfort.

 

Adam comes in again two mornings later, alone, and Marie takes his order. As he hands over a five dollar bill, Marie gathers her courage.

“Are you and your friends in a gang or something?” She asks, and immediately regrets it, because Adam is  _ staring  _ at her with too-old, all-knowing eyes.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Adam asks. Marie stares a moment, and when she doesn’t answer, scared to shatter the silence between them, Adam keeps talking. “Gansey’s the reincarnation of an ancient king. The rest of us are his court.”

It’s a simplistic explanation, barely scratching at the surface of some larger truth, but it  _ is  _ truthful, Marie can tell. Adam is serious when he says it, but not overly solemn or dramatic. He simply states it as fact, effectively destroying every theory Marie and her coworkers have come up with.

“Oh,” she says, trying to wrap her head around this new information. She hands him his change and his receipt.

“D’you believe me?” He asks. Marie shrugs a little, and Adam nods, wordlessly stepping aside to let the next person in line order.

 

West is nearly startled into dropping the plate he’s washing when Marie bursts into the back room.

“You’re  _ never  _ gonna believe this,” she announces. “I asked Adam about his friends--”

“You did  _ what _ ?” West asks, but Marie keeps talking, heedless of the interruption.

“--and he actually told me!”

“...He did what?” West asks into the sudden quiet. “So, wait, who wins the betting pool?”

“Nobody,” Marie says. “We were all wrong.”

“Everyone.”

“Yep. Actually I’m not sure if you or Juanita was closer, because West,  _ king and court. _ ”

It takes West a minute to realize that she’s telling him what Adam told her, not using some odd idiom he doesn’t know.

“Oh my god,” he says, “that actually makes so much sense.”


	2. Chapter 2

Richard Campbell Gansey III is a very impressive young man. Felix Tennison has known the Ganseys a long time, and he’s heard, of course, of the boy’s interest in finding Glendower’s tomb. But what Richard never said about the hunt was perhaps the most important piece: he hoped to find the old king alive. Felix keeps up with the happenings and rumours of the more magical pieces of the world. He knows that Gansey III and his friends had stirred quite a few things up in Henrietta. He knows that the search for Glendower ended, but he doesn’t know -- no one seems to know --  _ how  _ it ended. No one can tell him what happened, why the local ley lines have been so different, why half the biggest players in this game have all been effectively wiped off the map.

Felix watches the young Gansey from across the crowded room, watches him smile and socialize with grace and ease beyond his years. The two friends he brought home with him, Blue Sargent and Henry Cheng, seem to only blend in with the crowd when in Richard’s close vicinity. Cheng, Felix thinks, would fit in fine on his own, but if the pair aren’t close to young Gansey they’re close to each other, and Sargent, with her perfectly tailored summer-green tuxedo-dress, and her loudly contrary opinions, does  _ not  _ fit in. She turns Cheng’s courteous smile into a mischievous, childish grin, turns Gansey III’s diplomatic comments into argumentative counterpoints.

He watches Sargent scowl at a politician, straightening up to her unintimidating full height while Cheng tries to catch young Gansey’s gaze in a silent bid for help defusing the situation. Between these two and the ones not present tonight, Felix wonders what the elder Ganseys think of their son’s choice in friends. For that matter, he wonders what Seondeok thinks, or Mr. Gray, if the rumours are true that the latter has left the business and settled down with Sargent’s mother. Interesting development, that.

Felix makes his way over. Gansey III notices him first, but Cheng is a moment behind, and he brushes his fingers down Sargent’s arm. She glances at him, but quickly wraps up her one-sided conversation with the politician in front of her before following Cheng back to the young Gansey’s side. There are a few people staring due to the girl’s yelling, but they look away quickly, willing to ignore the social error, considering Sargent’s proximity to one of their hosts.

“Mr. Gansey,” Felix greets, extending a hand.

“Mr. Tennison,” Gansey replies, accepting it. “It's good to see you again.”

“And you,” Felix smiles. Truthfully, he’s a little nervous, his (admittedly, minimal) magic sending shocks across his skin, responding to the power of the young man in front of him. Then Sargent puts a hand on Gansey’s arm, and Felix hurriedly pulls his own hand away from the handshake, trying not to look as shaken as he feels by the sudden rush of magic.

All three of them are giving him curious looks. Young Gansey’s hand stays frozen for a moment before dropping back to his side.

“Are you alright?” The boy asks, a well-practiced look of concern crossing his features. Felix tries to laugh away his nerves.

“Yes, yes,” Felix says. He takes a deep breath in, deciding how much of his hand to show.  _ No gamble, no gain,  _ he decides, and gestures to Sargent. “I was surprised, that’s all. I thought that boy Parrish was supposed to be your magician.”

Gansey’s pleasant smile tightens, but he doesn't look surprised. Good.

“Adam is a very skilled magician,” Gansey agrees, walking with Sargent toward the edge of the room, where there are less people to overhear them. Felix has little choice but to follow, keenly aware of Cheng walking behind him.

“But he’s not the only one you’ve found for yourself,” Felix finishes the statement.

“No,” Gansey says, and before he continues Felix isn't sure whether or not that’s a confirmation. “Really, it was more like my friends found me.” He smiles again, but it looks just a little more real this time. Felix doesn't miss the use of the word  _ friends,  _ the threatening edge under Gansey’s tone, and he hastens to fix his mistake.

“Of course,” he replies, laughing. “I didn't mean to imply--”

“It’s fine,” Sargent interrupts. “You're not the first to think Gansey buys us.” She seems much more amused by this statement than Felix would expect.

“You’re actually not even in the first five, which would probably be a little depressing if it wasn't also hilarious,” Cheng grins, slinging an arm over Gansey’s shoulders. Gansey goes a little pink, but clears his throat and re-pastes his polite smile on his face.

“It was good to see you again, Mr. Tennison,” the young man says, with a distinctive air of finality.

“Likewise,” Felix ducks away, regretting his gamble a bit.

“Should we be worried about him?” He hears Sargent ask behind him.

“He’s a family friend,” Gansey replies dismissively.

“Should we be worried about your family friend?” Cheng asks, and there's a tired sigh, probably from Gansey.

“ _ No _ ,” the boy answers, and Felix can’t help his own sigh of relief as he weaves back into the crowd, inexplicably glad to put distance between himself and the young trio watching him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter i've actually finished, so the second half of this drabble series may come significantly later than the first.

Steph’s worked the same night shifts at the same breakfast diner for the past four and a half years. Weird, liminal-space-worthy odd happenings are practically commonplace-- footsteps in empty spaces, people coming in from the dark without shoes and with a hungry look in their eyes that transcends the eggs and pancakes and sausage they order for themselves, customers at 3am that look like they’ve stepped in from the wrong decade, the occasional fight and the even more occasional normal customer in the middle of a road trip.

The tween girl with hooves is definitely a new one, though.

She comes in alone, at first, without a coat despite the chill outside, face a bit dirty, her hair a tangled mess. Steph doesn’t really know whether to be more concerned about those things or the fact that the girl clearly isn’t human. The kid sits herself down at a booth, kicking her hooves gently back against the bottom of it, and Steph-- being the only server on duty, since Xander is in the kitchen playing Candy Crush-- takes a deep breath, grabs a kid’s menu, some crayons, and an adult menu just in case, and heads over to the kid’s table.

“Welcome to Sunrise Diner. My name's Steph, I’ll be your server for the evening.” Steph hopes their voice isn’t really as shaky as it sounds to them. They hand over both menus. The girl looks up with wiser eyes than any twelve-ish year old should have.

“I'll have this,” the girl says, pointing to a picture of a breakfast plate on the kid’s menu after barely glancing at it.

Steph scribbles down the order.

“Anything else?” They ask. The girl looks at the menu again, this time for longer, but eventually shakes her head. “Alrighty then.”

Steph goes into the kitchen to give the order to Denise, then comes back out just in time to see a young man come into the diner. They stop, looking him up and down with his tattoos and shaved head and dangerous scowl, but his eyes barely glaze over them before settling on the girl. He starts toward her, and Steph tenses. The girl just looks up and stares, untroubled, as he slides into the booth across from her.

“You have to stop fucking wandering off,” he says.

“I'm hungry,” the girl replies unrepentantly.

“The gas station is two blocks down, you're lucky someone noticed where you went or I'd’ve left without you.”

The girl sticks her tongue out, and the man makes a face back at her.

“I already ordered,” the girl says. “You got here too slow.”

“Fuck you,” the man replies easily, pulling the adult menu around to look at and leaving the girl the kid menu to color on, which she does.

Steph takes another very deep, steadying breath before approaching the table again.

“Everything going okay over here?” They ask cheerfully. Both the man and the girl hum noncommittally. “I put your order in with the kitchen, it shouldn't be too long a wait,” they tell the girl.

“Thanks,” she replies, without looking up.

“Can I get anything for you, sir?” Steph asks the young man, who makes a face, presumably at being called ‘sir'.

“I'll just have whatever she got,” he says, putting down his menu.

“It says twelve and under,” the girl informs him.

“Who cares?” The man asks, but he looks at Steph, like he's waiting to see if they do, in fact, care.

“It's fine,” Steph assures him, because they figure a probably-young forest spirit and her badass-looking probably-dad are beyond things like kid’s menu age limits. The man gives a ‘ _ see, I was right’  _ kind of look to the girl, who raises thick, dubious eyebrows in return.


End file.
